


Nocturnal

by Spacecadet72



Series: The Night Shift [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacecadet72/pseuds/Spacecadet72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle works nights instead of being locked up in the hospital. Mr. Gold comes to take Moe French’s van and an irate Belle confronts Mr. Gold leaving him shocked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturnal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sparrowluvr2's prompt during the Six Months of Rumbelle on tumblr.

Izzy French yawned, bringing one hand up to cover her mouth. She turned the wrist of the other hand over so that she could see the face of her watch. She smiled when she saw the time. In less than an hour, she would be ending her shift and able to sleep. Working the noc shift at the hospital didn’t lend itself to an easy lifestyle, but it paid the bills and her lack of a social life gave her plenty of time to read.

She smoothed down her scrub top and continued down the hall, needing to finish her rounds before clocking out.

 

Mr. Gold’s smile was predatory as he regarded Moe French. He didn’t always take this much pleasure in collecting on his deals, but this was personal. Moe French didn’t know it, but Sir Maurice had been responsible for the death of one of the only two people Rumplestiltskin had ever cared for, and for that he would pay. Many times over. The fact that Moe French was terrible with money only made it easier for Gold.

“But, I need this van!” Moe exclaimed, trying desperately to find his way out this predicament.

Mr. Gold’s smile only grew, the malicious gleam in his eye obscured by his sunglasses. “The terms on the loan were fairly specific.”

“But tomorrow is Valentine’s Day! You can’t just…”

“Papa?” both Moe French and Mr. Gold turned at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Papa, what’s wrong? I heard shouting.” the woman was young and beautiful. Her wavy, brown hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and she was dressed in pajamas, which in the afternoon would have been odd for anyone not working the night shift.

Mr. Gold had stiffened at her arrival, but her attention was focused solely on her father.

“Mr. Gold and I were just discussing collateral, Iz. I’m sorry we woke you.” Mow tried to make his tone light and dismissive, but there was no hiding the tightness behind his words.

“You’re taking the van?” Izzy demanded, turning on Mr. Gold. He looked shocked, his face pale, but he remained silent.

“Tomorrow’s the biggest day of the year!” she exclaimed. “How can he pay you back if he can’t make money?” her voice rose steadily as she spoke and her hands were on her hips.

Several beats passed before Mr. Gold seemed to compose himself. “Just as you say, Miss French.” he choked out, his voice hoarse. He turned as if to address Moe, but kept his eyes on the man’s daughter. “You have one month.” He then turned and walked as quickly to his car as his injured leg would allow, all but deaf to the stuttered thanks of the florist.

He drove home on autopilot, and his steps continued just as automatically as he walked into the house. He only paused in his journey to his bedroom when an object in his china hutch caught his eye. His breath caught, and he lurched toward the hutch, his hand closing almost hungrily around a chipped tea cup. The cup firmly in his grasp, he’d stumbled to his bed, only taking time to toe off his shoes and shed his jacket before collapsing on his bed.

He curled his body inward, clutching the cup to his chest. She was real, and she was alive. The Queen lied. She’s alive. These thoughts were circling around in his head, pushing everything else out.

Tomorrow, he would get up and he would plan. Plan how to win Belle back. Plan all the ways he could hurt Regina. He needed to figure out how this had escaped his notice for so long. But all of that could wait for tomorrow.


End file.
